


I Wish You Farewell

by bordaveaux



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Gaila LIVES because I can, Kodos - Freeform, Multi, Post Into Darkness, Sexism, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, The romance isn't the MAIN focus of the story but, but I'm also self indulgent sooooo, but not that slow., it's definitely there and important and also not really in the way background either.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 09:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bordaveaux/pseuds/bordaveaux
Summary: Reality comes crashing back, as it always does.  Predictably, when she sees Admiral Komack on her view screen, she doesn’t even have the decency to stop smiling, despite the bad feeling settled in her gut.  The fleet’s youngest Captain, the first woman to boot, with a goddamn criminal record and medals of honor, accelerating to the height of her career  ---  whatever it is, she can handle it.  With her family.She should have known better.





	I Wish You Farewell

  


It was only a matter of time.

Really, she's surprised it didn't happen _sooner_. But the inevitable call happens, on a particularly ordinary day.   As often as disaster strikes, really, the worst ones always happen when she’s let her guard down  --- when she’s comfortable, just enjoying life.

Like listening to Chekov _swear_ about how Russia invented chocolate, or watching Bones definitely _not_ crush on Christine ( who doesn’t take any of his shit, it’s glorious ), or even the surprise that was Nyota and _Gaila_ being a thing.  

A surprise, but a totally welcomed one.

The best one, though? Was having time to really enjoy _whatever_ it was between Spock and her . . . simmer.  There’s something there bursting with potential, but nobody’s made any kind of move yet.  And she’s okay with that, honestly. For now. There’s no huge rush ---- even if, yes, she did die once already  ---- but they’re getting there.

Jamie knows it’s a big deal, and she’s never done a serious relationship with anyone before, of any gender or species.  This feels serious, so she would be lying if she said it didn’t terrify her as much as it excited her.

Plus, damnit. . . . it’s _Spock_ .  While far from as repressed as he was ( internalized xenophobia thanks to shitty Vulcans is a hell of a thing ), he doesn’t really dive in head first.  Usually. Mostly, it’s after her, be it in a literal or figurative sense. So maybe he’s waiting for some kind of signal to take the plunge, while he’s still working through it on his own. Or, maybe he is just enjoying it like she is, while simultaneously being just as scared shitless as she is of what it means. What it _will_ mean.  

They’ve both lost _so much_ .  So, she understands his hesitation, as much as she understands her own.  It’s something she knows that’s mirrored without having to ask, because they’re like that, now:  they just _get_ each other.   She’s kind of getting spoiled by it, honestly.

But then reality comes crashing back, as it always does.  Predictably, when she sees Admiral Komack on her view screen, she doesn’t even have the decency to stop smiling, despite the bad feeling settled in her gut.  The fleet’s youngest Captain, the first _woman_ to boot, with a goddamn criminal record _and_ medals of honor, accelerating to the height of her career  --- whatever it is, she can handle it. With her _family_.

She should have known better.

With every word that leaves his mouth, her smile dims until it has wilted entirely, and that warm, content feeling she’s been riding the last few weeks evaporates.

“How long do I have, sir?”

It takes some effort to keep her voice steady, but she manages.  The Admiral, at least, shows some flicker of sympathy. He’s never been her favorite, and she knows the same can be said in reverse, but  ---- he’s always been honest about it There’s definitely at least one or two on the board that are rooted in their sexist ways who would love to watch her crash and burn, just so they had an excuse to keep other women out of the chair because of what’s between their legs.  ( Nevermind the fact that gender, like sexuality, is a _spectrum_ anyway, or that Starfleet has more trans officers than they probably even realize  --- but, whatever. Old, prejudiced dickheads exist in every era, it seemed. And though Kirk knows she’s probably way more open minded than some people, even in this day in age…. Seriously, what the fuck?  )

He’s never been _that_ kind of asshole, at least.  So the reaction seems, and feels, genuine enough that she keeps herself from wincing.  She still hates those kinds of looks, though. Reminds her too much of things she doesn’t want to remember, of ghosts that aren’t around anymore.

“I’m afraid only until the end of the week.  Given the circumstances, the Enterprise is being recalled to headquarters for . . . _repairs_ , until this handles itself.  Starting immediately. “

Earth about two and a half days away, at warp.  

Which left her a grand total of _four_ days to get her shit together, and wonder what the hell she was supposed to do.  Technically, that meant shit wasn’t going to hit the fan for _almost_ a week.  But technically, that almost meant her math was absolute bullshit, and she’s never been half as good lying to herself as she pretends to.

“Right. “  If her exhale then sounds a bit strained, well, she is wound tighter than a spring, so at least her body is still functioning even if she feels like she can’t breathe.  “ Understood. Sir. “

It’s hollow, but he doesn’t press it.  Just blessedly cuts the communication, and leaves her to stare at the blank, dark space of her screen.It stares back at her: just as lifeless. Silent.   _Too silent_.   Jamie doesn’t even realize she’s punched the screen until the pain registers, however delayed it is.  Shards of glass in her skin, knuckles got bloody from the impact.

Her blood feels almost sickly warm against her skin, and foreign  --- _are you sure it’s really yours?_ Some distant part of her brain seems to say, confused. After all, if there was a _lot_ of blood, it could have been someone else’s, too.  It has been before.

When her hand really starts to throb, that’s when she gets pulled back into the present.   “Shit. “ Bones was definitely going to kill her, but maybe she’ll get lucky, and Christine has the night shift this time.

No one else seems to be wandering the corridors, though.  The turbolift is empty. So there’s a spring of hope, until she starts getting closer to the Medbay doors and hears a familiar southern drawl  --- and a more evenly clipped, but no less comforting, voice.

_Of fucking course._

That’s just her luck, so she can’t even be pissed at them for no reason ---  like, doing their jobs and not subtly, or not to subtly, insulting one another for once.  It’s why she grins when she walks in, despite the inner turmoil, and the faint shake in the foundation of her false bravado.  

“Before anyone starts, “  Jamie can practically hear their protests already, and she has to bulldoze forward to avoid getting caught in that tornado of questioning.  It was the least pressing matter, anyway. “It’s not that big of a deal. So no need to freak out, alright? Just an accident. “ Which, technically _isn’t_ wrong, because she doesn’t remember intentionally punching the vidscreen, only that it happened.  

While that seems to temper Spock, if only _just_ so, she still gets earful from Bones while he carefully picks out the glass, and cleans the skin-deep wounds.  It’s about to continue, but before he can start, someone _actually_ in need of more than a band aid comes in, drawing McCoy’s attention.

“I am capable of bandaging the Captain’s hand, Doctor.  Please, attend to your patient. “ The Vulcan supplies smoothly, _still_ lingering in medbay.  In the middle of the night.  Which she already has marked down as _weird_ but what the hell, it isn’t like she doesn’t have her own quirks.

Or skeletons.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Spock. “  It’s a half hearted grumble, especially since he does just that -- probably because she was right, anyway.  Even if getting glass in her hand was pretty stupid, it’s not exactly life threatening. There’s no _logical_ reason for him to stay with an actual patient nearby.

Without prompting, Spock takes her hand with the utmost care, and dabs some wet gauze along the skin of her hand again, for good measure.  The cleaner no longer stinging quite as much, though when he presses against a cut that nears between her fingers --- otherwise known as the worst place to get paper cuts, or glass, in this case  -- she does wince, a bit.

He pauses, with only a brief flicker to her features, before he finishes once again, and sets the lightly stained material side in lieu of a fresh bandage wrap.  “Allow me,” A gentle murmur that almost felt warm, in the cold sterility of Medbay. Once, she would have chalked it up to a lack of sleep, or wishful thinking. But she knows that’s not it, even if she’s not yet ready to call both of them out on it.

 _It_ being the way her innocent touches might linger just a bit too long, and he allows it.  The way she’s pretty sure he smiles at her when no one is looking, even if it’s just with his eyes. The way they are practically joined at the hip, unconsciously mirror each other, and are definitely, _absolutely_ , emotionally compromised.  

But she won’t.  Not tonight. Instead, she takes a strange comfort in their comfortable silence, in the way he is focused on completing his task.  Gently cradling her hand, moving her fingers, and ensuring the bandage covers everything it needs to.

A final inspection is given, double-checking his work ( as all great scientists do ), before returning her hand to her. All she had to do was move it from the warmth of his palm, which was, at least point, completely self indulgent.  Sentimental. _Dangerous._

She’s never minded a little danger, but fuck, the timing absolutely sucks.

“Can you promise me something, Spock?”  It tumbles out before she has a chance to really think about it, but his attention is enraptured, and it makes her heart flutter a bit. Affection, definitely.  But in apprehension, too. “Try not to think differently of me, okay? If something happens. “

It’s such a loaded question, and one without context or further explanation.  He’s more than earned the right to _know_ , but she hoped he would never have to.  Now --- that all just might blow up in her face.  A lie by omission is still a lie, isn’t?

Even if he wants to press the issue, he’s good enough not to.  Not in sickbay, not when she knows she probably looks desperate for an answer.  

“Nothing would waiver my. . . high regard for you, Jamie.   I am sure of it. “ He seems so earnest, despite being in the dark.  It’s enough to make her believe, at least for a little while. Placaded with a temporary sense of peace and hope, she gives the Vulcan a quick peck on the slope of his cheek, before heading back to her quarters.

Her dreams start off sweet, before they turn to ash.  

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
